Trixie Belden and the Mystery at Ten Acres
by DixieCup
Summary: Part one of a seven part retelling of Beauty and the Beast as Trixie attempts to find out why Jim has secluded himself within the walls of Ten Acres.
1. Chapter 1

_Standard disclaimers apply. Characters are owned by Penguin/ Random House. I make no money off my stories but some days are lonely and I need to brush the cobwebs off old friends and bring them out to play. I hope you enjoy this short, emotional tale._

Part 1

"Are you listening to me, Trixie?" Honey said, tilting her sunglasses into her hair to take a better look at her friend. She took a healthy swallow from her water bottle and reapplied a generous coating of sunscreen to her neck and shoulders. "Are we making any dent in our tan lines? Leave it to Di to plan an end of summer wedding with strapless bridesmaid gowns."

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, Honey. Guess I was woolgathering," Trixie replied. Her gaze returned again and again to Ten Acres. "You'll look beautiful no matter what. And I thought you had some wonder product that will help even out our skin?"

"Oh, I do. This was just an excuse to have a day to myself," Honey said with a giggle.

Trixie picked up her bottle of water and check her own tan lines in the strapless bikini she wore. She really wasn't built for bikinis, strapless or otherwise, but Honey had insisted it was the only way to even out the tan lines left by her usual one piece.

Honey rolled her hazel eyes at her best friend for the last decade. "He won't come out," she said softly. "At least not for me. Have you tried?"

Trixie ran her fingers through her shoulder length sandy curls. "No. Haven't even tried. I think having him turn me away would break my heart. He meant so much to me, Honey. And yeah, I was hurt when he got married right out of boot camp, but I figured, you know, if he's happy. You know?"

Honey closed her eyes, remembering getting the news of her brother's impending marriage. "She was a cold piece of work. She married him for the paycheck and the benefits, not dealing with his injuries when he came home."

Trixie rolled her eyes. "I don't think that's the only reason they got married," she said, bitterly remembering how they had been all over each other on his first visit home to introduce his wife to his family.

"She was a stripper," Honey said, as thought that explained everything. And maybe it did. She had exuded an easy sexuality that put had pulled men into her thrall. "And yeah, I am fairly sure even Jim knew he'd made a mistake by the time the ink was dry on the marriage certificate."

"But he still did it," Trixie pointed out.

"For a while, but yeah, he had already talked to me about a divorce before he left on his last deployment."

That was news to Trixie.

"And then the explosion. The injury." Trixie closed her eyes, remembering the early images Honey had described.

Honey shrugged. "If it helps, I don't think it destroyed him losing her. It was obviously embarrassing when the tabloids got a hold of the story but she wound up much worse in the PR battle."

"And she got a hefty settlement," Trixie said, looking down at her thighs.

"You marry for money, you earn every penny," Honey said.

Trixie's eyes returned to the looming construction that was the rebuilt Ten Acres.

"I'm sure he looks much better now," Honey said. "But Miss Trask turns me away every time I go up to visit."

"At least he has Miss Trask," Trixie said.

"And his work," Honey commented.

"How is the Frayne Holding Company doing these days?"

"According to the New York papers, very well. I believe the last headline was something like 'Disfigured Heir to the Wheeler Fortune cuts Own Path on Wall Street.'"

"I thought you were the heir," Trixie asked, refusing to dignify their insult to Jim.

Honey smiled at her. "I'm pretty sure Daddy has it split. The question is who will run Wheeler/ Hart when and if he retires."

"You don't want it?"

Honey shook her head. "I am very comfortable reviewing the legal aspects and doing due diligence. Jim is better with real estate deals, even though he does everything via phone. I keep hoping one day they'll merge companies and I can head up the legal department but so far, Jim has been resistant."

"Resistant? You mean stubborn, right?"

Honey shrugged and smiled. "I've heard he has a temper, too."

Trixie snorted and turned around to give some color to her back. "Another half hour and we'll head in. Di will kill us if we burn."

"How's work going?" Honey asked.

"Did I ever tell you how happy I was you insisted we take that course in criminal psychology? I've been interning with a forensic psychologist at the prison and I think he's going to recommend me for a job. It's been fascinating, learning how the criminal mind works, if they're rehabilitated enough for release. I love it but I was also glad to take these two weeks off to relax and spend time with the Bob-Whites."

"All the Bob-Whites but one," Di said, coming around the back of Crabapple Farms and joining her best friends. "Jim isn't going to come to the wedding," she wailed, thrusting an RSVP card at Trixie. "How can I possibly get married if the Bob-Whites aren't all together? Even Hallie is flying in from Idaho and she was only an honorary Bob-White!" Trixie smiled with the memory of making Hallie an honorary member of the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the semi-secret club she and her friends had created as teenagers.

"Did you hear from Ned, the Hubbells, and Dot Murray?"

"Yes," Di hissed, going into full bridezilla mode. "But your brother is going to absolutely mess up everything! I have an entire table of honor for the Bob-Whites and he simply has to come! I'll just die if we don't have all six of us there!"

"Okay, calm down," Trixie said, standing up and taking off her sunglasses.

"Calm down!" Di shouted. "When in the history of being angry has that phrase ever worked? On anyone? Ever? Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Beatrix Belden! My wedding is going to be ruined because her brother," Di pointed to Honey, "is a jerk!"

To Trixie's amazement, Honey burst into tears.

"Oh, Di, I'm so sorry. How can I ever make this up to you?"

"I don't think you can," Di said, evenly. "In fact, maybe it would be best if you joined your brother in exile. "

"Wait. What? You can't mean that! Okay. Let me think," Trixie said, stepping between her two best friends before they came to blows. "Okay. Honey. You said Jim is home, right?"

Between tears, Honey nodded. "Miss Trask said he had a physical therapy appointment at noon today," she said with a hiccough.

Trixie paced a moment before slipping into her flip flops. "Let me see if I can make this right." She hugged Di. "Let me go talk to him, okay? Di? Please?" Trixie shot a worried look at Honey. "Are you two going to be okay? Seriously, no fighting. The wedding is in a week. No black eyes, okay?"

Di sniffed and looked away from her.

Defeated, Trixie grabbed the large shirt she had been using as a cover up and began the hike up to Ten Acres.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Di sat down and applied sunscreen to her legs. "And Mart says my acting lessons were a waste of money."

Honey snorted with laughter and handed her a bottle of water as they waited to see what magic Trixie could concoct as she unraveled the mystery of why Jim had secluded himself in the house on the hill.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Still muttering about too small bathing suits and bridezillas, Trixie approached the intricately designed cast iron door with some trepidation. She raised her hand to knock but then thought of the lessons she had taught Honey the summer they had become friends.

In the country, neighbors didn't have to knock. And she was certainly not about to let Miss Trask play bodyguard to the man who was threatening to ruin her brother's and Di's wedding.

Barging in, she found Miss Trask coming out of one of the sitting rooms. Still holding her T-shirt, Trixie waved the RSVP card and said "Where is he?"

Miss Trask grinned and pointed upstairs. "Library. Second door on the left."

It was hard to storm up a flight of stairs in flip flops, Trixie discovered about half way up. Nothing like announcing yourself with a loud "flip" followed by an equally loud "flop", she thought with a snort.

She found Jim standing in the shadows of the door. "Trix?" he said, his voice a bit huskier than she had remembered.

"You," she said, standing far enough back to not be intimidated by his near-towering height. "You have some explaining to do, James Winthrop Frayne."

"Go home, Trixie," Jim said, reverting back to the shadows and. He sat down in the plush leather chair in one corner. "I don't have time for this."

His words set the flame to Trixie's own simmering temper. "Oh, I think you have nothing but time, Jim. And you're going to listen to me, for once."

She heard him sigh in resignation and took it as a sign for her to continue. "And don't you dare patronize me. I, I mean, the Bob-Whites, are sick and tired of your behavior."

One russet brow lifted. "My behavior? And here I thought I'd been pretty good at minding my own business these last two years."

Seeing red, Trixie threw her T-shirt at him, hoping to knock some sense into him. "Oh, is that's what you've been doing up here, turning into the Hermit of Glen Road? Maybe you wanted to give your uncle a run for the title? "

She marched up to him so she could use the full power of her glare. "You made Di and Honey cry," she accused.

##

James Winthrop Frayne had been through a lot in his twenty seven years. The death of his parents. The physical and mental abuse by his step-father. Years of adventures trying to keep a certain spitfire with china blue eyes out of trouble. Four deployments to the Sandbox. A marriage and relatively simple divorce. The destruction of most of the left side of his body and the ensuing agony of repeated surgeries, healing, and physical therapy.

But nothing had ever prepared him for the short, curvy blonde in a bikini assaulting him with his own clothing.

"My shirt," he said, dumbly, looking at the Marine green shirt.

"That's all you can say?" Trixie's voice rose and for a moment, Jim was sure she was going to bust out of the barely there bathing suit she was wearing. As he was sitting and she was standing, he wasn't sure if he should look forward to the reveal or insist she wear something.

"What would you like me to say?" Resignation wore at him. Of all the Bob-Whites, her opinion had always mattered the most to him. She and Honey were his first real friends and he missed them.

Jim watched, fascinated, as Trixie almost shook with anger. "I want you to accept the invite to Mart and Di's wedding. I want you to be Honey's brother again. I want you to be my friend, again."

"If I attended the wedding, the day would become about me and my injuries. I didn't want to do that to Di and Mart. I'll always be Honey's brother." Involuntarily his hand reached out to play with one stray sandy curl. "And I had hoped I would always be your friend, Trix. Forever."

Anger left in a giant vacuum to be replaced with overwhelming sadness. "I thought we'd be friends forever, too, Jim."

Jim sighed and gave Trixie his old Marine Corp T-shirt. "Put this on. You look cold."

Trixie gripped the shirt for a long moment before jamming her arms through the arm holes and putting it on. All while glaring at him.

Something hit Jim – something strong and visceral – as he watched her cover herself in a shirt that he had once worn. Possession? Ownership? Whatever it was, he had the overwhelming desire to kiss Trixie. Claim her as his. Make sure no one else ever looked at her near naked body. He shook it off. If there was ever a time for that, this was not it.

"I want you to rejoin the living," Trixie said, curling up in the twin to his chair and tucking her feet under her. Jim squirmed, realizing she was on his left side. He fought the urge to retreat further into the shadows in order to salvage his pride. As it was, she had to have seen some of his marred features.

"It's not that easy, Trix," Jim said. "At Walter Reed, I was just another patient. But out in the real world? I'm some kind of freak and I know it. I know I should have died in that desert. I'm tired of making little kids cry and women gasp in horror. Fixing my leg was enough. I don't have it in me for more surgeries."

Trixie rose and stood before him, her hand on the floor lamp behind him. "Let me," she said, touching him gently under his chin.

He closed his eyes and nodded, once. Regret crashed into him. But really? When had he ever denied her anything?

 _Impetuous Trixie._

 _Irresistible Trixie._

With a single click, the soft muted light illuminated his face.

"Oh, Jim," Trixie said, softly.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

"Please go," he implored, bright emerald green eyes meeting her clear blue gaze.

Ignoring him, with gentle fingers, Trixie traced the outline of his eyebrows. A single tear welled and she wiped it away. Her hands paused at the healed gash under his left eye. It was deep and still red and the doctors had told him it would probably never heal properly. "Your eyes are intact. It would have been a shame," she said, her voice growing husky. "I always loved this shade of green."

His eyes closed as her fingers explored further. Most of his nose was a mangled mess that probably inhibited his breathing. A scar bisected most of his face but he had been able to grow a light beard to cover the worst of it.

"Does it hurt to talk?" she asked, tracing the scar near his Adam's apple.

"Not too much, anymore. But yeah, the first few months were hell. Talking pulled at my stitches. It was better to stay quiet."

"I guess we both know how hard that would have been for me to be quiet for months at a time."

Jim's lips quirked in a shadow of his former grin but Trixie felt it was a minor victory.

"Can you breathe out of your nose?" she asked, trailing a gentle fingertip along the nasal bridge.

"No, not always," Jim said. "Brian has been after me to get it fixed but I just don't think I can handle another surgery."

Trixie winced, realizing he considered Brian's friendship more valuable than her own. "If it would restore your breathing, it would make sense," she said.

"I just. You don't understand."

"I do," Trixie said, brushing her lips against the space between his eyebrows. "You were tired of surgeries."

He nodded, accepting the touch. When had he last been touched by a woman, any woman, let alone Trixie?

 _Too long._

When had he last felt a woman's soft curves press against him?

 _Too long._

Her hands continued and Jim forced himself to relax. Endure the exquisite pleasure pain of having her so close to him.

"This one at your neck," she said. "That could have killed you."

Jim nodded. Any and all of the injuries could have killed him but the piece of shrapnel he'd taken in his neck was probably the worst.

"Are there more?" she asked, her hand over his heart.

"My gear protected most of my chest and back," Jim said.

"But your legs?"

"The left is in bad shape," he said. _Please don't ask. Please don't ask. Please don't ask._

"Can I see?"

 _Naturally_. He held out, his gaze dropping to his lap.

"Please, Jim? Don't make me beg."

Jim closed his eyes and nodded, head bowed. He rose so he could stand in the trailing ends of afternoon sunlight coming in the library. With a deft flick of his fingers and without pausing to rethink his decision, he dropped his worn denim jeans. He stood proudly in his boxer briefs, his body honed and hard from an intense work-out schedule to maintain the remainder of his muscles.

Tuning Trixie out, Jim bent one arm and leaned against the window and stared at the blossoming apple trees in his orchard. Long ago, he had learned to compartmentalize. There was no other way to survive military life, to endure deployment after deployment, if you didn't.

##

Trixie Belden had seen a lot in her life. She'd been kidnapped. Her cousin and Dan had been kidnapped. She'd dealt with arsonists and child abusers. She almost drowned. Counterfeiters and smugglers quaked when Trixie Belden had exposed them to the authorities. But nothing – absolutely nothing – had prepared her for Jim.

His legs were like tree trunks, as though he methodically exercised in order to preserve every muscle he had. Where his right leg was covered in a generous amount of golden auburn hair, his left, in contrast, was conspicuously free of hair.

That's not to say it was smooth, because that would be the last word in the world to describe what was left of Jim Frayne's left leg.

Most of the inner thigh was blessedly intact but the tears in the skin and muscle were obvious. The coarse shred of muscle striation delineated the leg, making it look more like an illustration in an anatomy book than an actual human leg.

His knee was a mess of surgical scars, each line perfectly straight and brutal in their macabre beauty.

Her lips parted as she looked at his calves. "Both legs?"

"They did a muscle graft," he said, his teeth gritted.

"Am I hurting you?" Her hand stroked him.

Jim shook his head, but Trixie felt sure she was making him feel uncomfortable. She hated knowing she was possibly hurting him but was helpless to stop her exploration. "And skin grafts on top of that?" The heat of the moment rose as they looked at each other, Trixie on her knees for a better look at his left leg and Jim standing tall and proud.

He nodded and moved, breaking the rising tension. He reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled them back up. "You had your look at the bionic man," he said, bitterly. "Now, get out."

He watched, helplessly, as she turned her back and left the library.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Dinner time approached and still Jim sat in the library, his fingers pausing over the pages of the latest business proposal he was considering. Guttenberg Braille Project had hit a funding wall developing a refreshable Braille eReader and was seeking additional funding.

The idea seemed so obvious to raising literacy in the blind community, but the technology behind heat reactive polymers was apparently prohibitively expensive.

The dinner bell rang and Jim rose, determined to keep to his schedule, despite his visit from Trixie. He had a company to run and employees who depended on him.

He pushed away the wave of loneliness that threatened. She left. It was over. He was alone again. Which is how he wanted it. So why did he feel like crap?

Which was why he was surprised to see Trixie in his living room, fully dressed, and talking to Miss Trask.

"Did you get a chance to review the financials for GBP, Jim?"

Jim held up the file. "Was going to look at it over dinner."

"Will you join us, Miss Trask?" Trixie asked, her blue eyes bright.

"I thought you left," Jim said.

Miss Trask raised her eyebrow. "Kicking me out, Jim? I assure you Wheeler/ Hart will take me back."

"No, I meant Trixie," Jim said, feeling flushed and foolish.

"I'm not going anywhere," Trixie said. "I only have a week to convince you to go to the wedding. I'm not wasting any of it." Her chin tilted and she sat at the formal dining room table with the regalness of a queen. "Are you planning on standing there or were you going to join me for dinner?"

Jim sat and a tray was wheeled in. "Just leave it in the kitchen when you're done," Cook said. She shared a smile with Trixie and Miss Trask before leaving them for the kitchen.

"Help?" Trixie asked. "And here I thought you were a complete hermit."

Jim's face hardened. "I'm not a hermit," he said, hurt that his family would think that of him. "I run a multimillion dollar business as well as sit on the board of Wheeler/ Hart. I even call my parents once a week. It's not like I don't have contact with people. " He turned to his sister's former governess. "Were you going to join us, Miss Trask? I can get an extra place setting."

Miss Trask smiled and brushed a stray silvery hair away from her face. "Thanks, Jim. Trixie. But I have a date tonight. Trixie, your suitcase is in the Blue Room. Jim can show you after dinner." She nodded to them both and left, her stride brisk and purposeful.

Dinner began as an awkward affair with neither of them sure what to say or how to begin to build a bridge between their past friendship and their current situation.

"This is delicious. Cold duck?"

Jim nodded, staring at his plate and systematically cutting his dinner into small bites. He was only happy Trixie was sitting to his right, keeping the worst of his scars facing away from her.

"What. Um. What proposal are you looking at?"

"GBP, or the Guttenberg Braille Project, is trying to bring to market an affordable Braille capable e-reader. The project stalled in Europe and the one in China is set to come out but with a price point of over three thousand US dollars."

Trixie whistled. "That's a lot of money."

Jim nodded, opening the folder. "It is, and naturally, puts it out of the reach of many of the intended demographic. And, of course, the cost of books. They're trying to work out a deal with the three biggest publishing houses to get translations in Braille. That would have to be shored up before we continue. But, literacy is essential to learning and many of the blind community aren't even being taught Braille."

"Really? So, they aren't reading?"

Jim shook his head and pulled out a report, sliding it across the table. "From 1932 to 1960, blind people were taught to read Braille. But according to the report GBP included from the National Federation of the Blind, adult literacy among the blind is only at 10%."

"Oh wow," Trixie said. "That's terrible!" She frowned. "How do they learn?"

"Audio or text to speak programs," Jim said. He pulled out another report and frowned. "But of course, those things can't teach punctuation, sentence structure, or other aspects of grammar. Reading comprehension for school kids isn't as high among the blind because they aren't reading. Sometimes, as you know, we all need to re-read things several times to really understand and grasp it."

Trixie looked at the prototype that Jim held. Slightly longer than her Kindle e-reader, it was sleek and light. "Braille raises the pages, making the books thick and cumbersome," he continued. "That was a big reason it fell out of use."

She held her hand out and lightly touched the slim device. "So the screen will raise with the words?"

"They're working on a heat sensitive polymer," Jim said. "I think one of the companies Dad uses works with polymer. I want to look into seeing if we can keep costs down by staying in-house."

"Wow," Trixie said. "It sounds like you're sold on the idea."

"Yes and no. I agree it's a needed item, but I need to review their business plan. Will it make money? Can it be marketed to international markets? Or am I subsidizing a losing, although well intentioned, item?"

"Is it always about money?"

Jim shrugged. "Frayne Holding isn't a charity. Eventually, I have to recoup my investment. "

"Literacy is important, Jim."

"I agree. I want to look into it, for sure. I need to look into their distribution chain and determine where and how they're coming up with their price point. I need to talk with a contact over at Random House and see if they're willing to work with us. This could be a great prototype for multiple companies to get in and support it. Once it gets rolling and we see what the demand is, we can expand and the price point will drop." He stood, collected their plates, and placed them into the now quiet kitchen. He returned with two generous slices of cheesecake. "Looks like Cook thought of everything," he said.

"Are we going to talk?" Trixie said.

"Not over dinner," Jim said. "I just want to enjoy a meal with an old friend."

Trixie nodded and felt her stomach clench. "I'm not leaving, Jim. Everyone wants you there."

"I don't get company very often," he said quietly. "Let's eat first," he said, tracing her hand with one long finger. "We'll talk later," he said, handing her a fork.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

"I haven't just been a hermit, Trix. That's an unfair accusation," Jim began. They sat across from each other in a small sitting room, a chess board between them.

"What do you call it?" she asked, moving her knight.

"Being in hospital. Healing from surgeries. Having more surgery. Lots of physical therapy. Weight training to learn how to walk on only a fraction of my calf muscles. Working with Miss Trask, trying to keep my business afloat."

"But you haven't seen Honey in almost two years," Trixie protested. _And you haven't seen me in almost three, she thought._

"You're right. Do you know why?"

Trixie shook her head.

"You were a Candy Striper. What do people do when they visit hospitals?"

"Sit and talk to the patient."

"Right." He rubbed his hand over his jaw. "I had stitches in my jaw and had some smoke inhalation scars. I couldn't talk. It sometimes still hurts to talk. Any visitor would have just sat there and looked at me. Talked at me. Cried over the way I looked." His hard green eyes bore into her with an intensity that was new. "How comfortable would that have made you?"

"But Honey is your sister."

"What could she have done? How is it I was the one injured but you felt hurt?"

 _Well_ , Trixie thought, _put like that, maybe he had a point_ , she thought. "Friends don't abandon each other, Jim. You aren't an island. You are part of our lives here in Sleepyside and you disappeared. So yes, you hurt all of us. You denied your friends and family the ability to comfort you. You cut us all out, saying you didn't need us. But we still needed you." Seeing that he still wasn't understanding, she continued. "If Honey were injured, wouldn't you want to see her? Make sure she was okay. Help her when her strength waned?"

Jim sighed and rose to pour himself two fingers of whisky from a decanter in one corner. "You may be right," he said finally. He lifted the decanter in a silent invitation and Trixie nodded. He returned with two cut crystal tumblers and handed one to her.

"So, you'll come to the wedding?"

He smiled. _Tenacious Trixie_.

"I can't, Trix. I read the invite. She's having a huge society deal at the Plaza Hotel. Complete with five hundred guests and the paparazzi. If it were a small family only thing, I'd have considered it."

"But don't you see? You can fade into the background among that many people." Trixie gulped, realizing for the first time just how big this had gotten. How on earth was she going to stand up in front of that many people while Mart and Di said their vows? She took a hasty sip of the whiskey and coughed a little, much to her chagrin and Jim's quiet amusement.

Jim raised his glass in a toast and took another sip. An alarm went off and he rose. "I have a conference call with Sydney at the top of the hour," he said, dismissing her.

"It's midnight!"

"Yeah, here. But it's midafternoon tomorrow in Sydney," he said. "And you really should go home."

Trixie nodded, recognizing this battle was over. The war, however, was far from won. "I guess we're at check mate," she said, knocking her queen down.

"I'm sorry," Jim said, looking into the amber depths of his tumbler.

"How can I convince you to be there on Saturday if I leave?" She reached for a hug and was surprised when Jim enveloped her in his strong arms. She closed her eyes, pretending for a moment they were back in school and his fourth tour in Iraq was still some time in the future.


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

"How do you think she's doing?" Mart asked, looking around his living room at the other members of the BWGs.

"It's been three days. She hasn't called for backup yet, so she must be doing okay," Honey said.

"Or he's kidnapped her and holding her hostage," Dan said, standing up and pacing by the large picture window.

"Oh, please. As many times as Trixie's been kidnapped, she'd have escaped the first day," Mart scoffed. "You forget. I've seen her in action."

"Maybe we should all do what she did," Brian suggested. "Just charge up there and demand entrance. Hold him hostage until he agrees to the wedding." Honey eyed him warily and Brian felt a tightness in his chest resembling shame. He hadn't seen Honey in a long time.

Eighteen months, to be exact.

"I'm free," Dan said. "Let's storm the castle."

Honey's gaze moved from Brian to Dan. "Sounds good," she said. "Let's roll."

##

Jim rubbed his eyes. He was dreaming. He had to be. There was no way this blonde goddess was on his patio, working on her tan.

"You should put something on," Jim said. These last few days had been both Heaven and Hell. Pleasure and Pain. She was the missing piece of his puzzle, but he didn't know if she wanted to fit.

"I'm in a swimsuit," Trixie returned, magazine over her face to protect her nose from too much sun. "The bridesmaid dresses are strapless. I need to get my tan lines covered."

"Isn't there like make up for that?"

Trixie raised and lowered a shoulder. "Probably. But since you're being stubborn, I'm here."

"I'm stubborn?"

"If you would agree, I'd be gone."

Jim's voice, already smoke damaged, grew huskier. "Is that what you want, Trix?"

She was quiet so long; he didn't think she was actually going to answer. Finally, she responded with a question of her own. "Why, Jim? Why did you get married?"

 _There she was_ , Jim thought. _Direct to the point Trixie._

"I hated her," Trixie admitted. "It was supposed to be us, Jim. You and me. Forever. There was never supposed to be a Candy Frayne in the picture." She shuddered, just saying the name.

"No, there shouldn't have been. I had already seen a lawyer before I left on my last tour. She liked it best when I was away. I think the reality of living with me was more than she could handle." _How could he explain that with her dyed blonde hair and faded blue eyes, she was a low rent version of Trixie Belden? What had he been thinking? He'd been thinking he was lonely and waiting the three years for the real Trixie to grow up had felt insurmountable_.

Jim sat next to her in one of the chairs and looked out at the acres of lavender, daisies, and sunflowers. "I was an idiot and lonely. Candy was . . . I don't know. I guess the old adages are right. I wasn't thinking with the right head."

Trixie arched her eyebrow at his answer, but she shook her head, sadly. "Lonely sucks."

"It really does," Jim agreed.

"It's beautiful here," Trixie commented changing the subject and lifting the magazine to admire the flowers in various stages of bloom.

"I've been working with Cap," Jim said. "He's the one that suggested this grouping of flowers and the orchard."

"My cousin?"

"Yep. He's been on a tear about the bee population, so we worked this out. I plant what bees like and the honey co-op he works with comes and harvests the honey and takes care of the hives. In return, I get gorgeous views and a share of the honey sells."

"He never said anything," Trixie said. She sat up, her hands on the top of her bikini to keep from exposing herself to Jim.

"It wasn't a secret. He contacted me when I started work on rebuilding the house at Ten Acres. He said there was a co-op in Westchester County but with the cost of land these days, they were having problems finding large tracts of land for the bees. My acreage, the land at Crabapple Farms, and the Preserve at Manor House combined is now home for hundreds of thousands of bees."

"That's amazing, Jim." She stood and faced him, framing his face in her hands. "Sometimes it's like we're kids again. You're the same and yet . . . so different. What happened?"

"Four tours in Iraq," Jim said, meeting her gaze. "The last one was kind of a blast but it took me that long to figure out my lucky number was three." His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile and Trixie felt her heart beat a little stronger in her chest.

Her eyes filled with tears and with gentle, deliberate slowness lowered her lips to his. Jim froze for a moment, caught in the web Trixie spun as effortlessly as she did everything else before softening his mouth and kissing her back.

Passion surrounded them in a haze and they both eagerly embraced it. He took her hands from his face, stood, and pulled her closer. "Trix," he said, softly. "I'm so sorry I didn't wait for you. That I was in such a rush to grow up that I forgot about what's important."

"I want you. But not for just a day," Trixie said, tracing the line of his jaw.

"We can start with forever," Jim said. "Negotiate from there."

"And you'll come to the wedding?"

Jim rolled his eyes and grinned. "Tenacious Trixie. Yes. But only as your date."

"Deal." She nodded, standing on her toes and reached for the deliciously soft lips of the finest man she'd ever been honored to kiss.

##

They were remarkably well dressed for a band of marauders, Miss Trask thought as she opened the door.

"They're on the back patio," she said as she let them in.

"How is it going?" Brian asked.

"Well, he didn't kick her out or call the police. I think that's a good sign."

"He wouldn't call the police! Would he?" Honey asked, leading the charge to the patio. She skidded to a stop at the sight of Trixie wrapped around Jim and Jim pressing her tightly against the brick retaining wall. Her mouth opened as if to say "Oh" and she turned to look at Di.

"Oof," she said, as Dan and Brian plowed into her. Everyone stared at the couple intertwined with passionate purpose.

"Uh, Jim?" Trixie said as Jim started working his magic on the soft exposed neck.

"Mmm?"

"We have company."

He turned with her in his arms and took in the assortment of friends and family on the patio. "Good grief," he muttered. "If it's that important, I will be honored to be there, Di. Mart. Honey, I'll call you tomorrow."

Firming his grip on Trixie, he entered into his library with her, leaving the Bob-Whites staring after them.

"Was she even dressed?" Brian said, warring between being a protective older brother and a friend relieved to see his best friend and sister finally finding the happiness they both deserved.

"I think she was in a swimsuit," Di said.

"Both pieces?" Dan asked, only to find himself on the receiving end of a Gibbs' slap from both Mart and Brian.

"Do we wait for them?" Mart asked.

"No!" Honey said, smacking him lightly in the stomach with the back of her hand. "We're going to give them some privacy."

"Does this mean he's going to start living again?" Dan asked.

"He was always living, Dan," Miss Trask said, joining them on the patio with a tray of lemonades. "He's had almost back to back surgeries for the last two years. He just didn't want to burden anyone with it. You know how he is."

Honey stared at her Rachel Zoe pumps before meeting Miss Trask's gaze. "We're family. Family isn't a burden."

Miss Trask shrugged and led them all back into her office near the foyer. "As for the wedding, you do realize every news outlet will be there, like vultures waiting for fresh carrion."

Di nodded, rolling her eyes. "Daddy insisted on it. Nothing but the best for his little girl."

"And you didn't think it would be the perfect time for the paparazzi to feed on Jim's story? Which would totally overshadow your day."

Di and Mart exchanged a long look. "I hadn't thought of it like that," Di said.

Miss Trask looked at them reproachfully. "I agree he needs to get out more and be comfortable with it. But don't you think your assumptions have been unfair to him?"


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

The late afternoon sun was long past the horizon as Trixie and Jim held each other, their bodies sated and serene.

"Do you think they left?"

Jim laughed and rolled onto his back. "I certainly hope so," he said. "Can you imagine them waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Dan laughing his butt off. Your brothers holding shotguns and my sister demanding to know what your intentions towards me are."

Trixie tucked under his arm, loathe to give up even a moment away from the warmth of his skin. "My intentions may not be exceptionally honorable," she teased.

"I think I can handle your intentions," Jim said, brushing a kiss across her curls.

She reached out, felt a scar in his shoulder and rose to get a better look. Blue eyes met green. "Tell me," she said as night fell, surrounding them with velvety softness.

"I don't even remember flying through the air," Jim whispered in the dark room, his arm holding Trixie tight against him. "One minute I was on patrol, about the sixth person back. We had to go in single file because of the IEDs," he explained.

Trixie merely nodded, confident her voice would betray her tears. Silently, she let them fall, hoping Jim would continue.

"It was the worst pain I ever experienced. Indescribable, really. I was convinced I had lost at least one of my legs. But I looked down and counted." He huffed a laugh in the darkened room. "I actually counted my own legs, Trix. One. Two. And when I realized I was injured but intact, all I did was feel this massive relief."

Trixie's fingers explored the raised shrapnel scars on Jim's large hands to let him know she was listening.

"But they were bad," he continued. "Real bad. I pulled some dressing out and wrapped them up. There were some rocks imbedded, but I didn't want to remove them. What if they were plugging an artery? If I pulled them out, I could have bled out. So, I had to wrap the dressing around them. I just had to shut down and do it. I had no other options." Jim's voice grew hoarse and Trixie suspected he was close to tears, too. "You have to learn to compartmentalize," he said. "Ignore reality. Focus on getting through that minute. That hour. That day. In that moment, I wanted to survive and I did what I had to do."

He played with her curls, stroking them like a talisman. "And all this time, we're being fired on. Would I survive the explosion to be killed by gunfire? I just . . . I didn't know. Wilson, our medic, helped me up and I had to get out of there. I'm a big guy, you know? He couldn't just carry me. I found out later I'd shattered my knee. But there I was running, with help, to the helicopter. Firing behind me, hoping to cover our position and keep us safe. Keep my guys safe. I was leaving my guys without me and it felt wrong. But I had to get out of there fast so Wilson could get back. I didn't want to be the reason anyone else went home on a stretcher or a body bag."

Trixie couldn't hide her shaking shoulders or tears any longer but still she remained silent. This was Jim's story to tell and he had to get it out.

"Do you want me to stop?" Jim asked, his fingers tracing the gentle curve of her spine.

"I'm listening," Trixie made out. "I want this, Jim. I want to know what happened."

"I was six in the row. Guys one and two didn't make it. Three and four lost both legs. Five lost a limb. And then there was me. You've seen the scars, baby. They tell the story. The gash in my cheek from a piece of flying shrapnel. A broken nose. The slice of metal that almost cut my face in two. I was lucky I didn't lose my eyes. They were going to amputate my leg but my surgeon had this idea to split the calf muscle on my good leg, cover it with skin grafts, and then keep it all in with screws."

"Honey said you were in a wheelchair when you first came home."

Jim nodded, brushing gentle kisses along Trixie's silky soft nape. "It took about a year of surgeries and therapy before I got any decent mobility. And then another year of working out and trying to build my strength. Been working hard ever since."

Trixie turned in his arms, her limbs linking with his. "Why did you shut us all out?"

Jim shrugged but the night continued to work its magic. "My goal wasn't to shut people down," he said. "I needed to heal. It was round after round of surgery. Physical therapy three times a week. I was in pain, Trix. I wasn't trying to hurt people. I was trying to heal myself." His lips were soft and the tickle of his whiskers made her giggle. It was watery and weak but it was still a giggle. "I would have come back to the world of the living, eventually."

Trixie's fingers were gentle as she played with his chest hair. "I can be patient."

The rumble started low and Jim released her, sitting up to finally laugh out loud.

"What?" Trixie said, wrapping the sheet to conceal her nudity. "I can be patient."

Between Jim's large, loud, gasping for breath guffaws, he managed a quick, "When?" before resuming the large belly laughs.

Trixie's lips quivered before she conceded the point. "Okay. So maybe I don't have a lot of patience. But I did wait two years before seeking you out. That has to count for something," she said, softly.

Jim's laughter died down and he pulled her close to him, his hands seeking her warm curves. "It counts for everything," he whispered before pulling her under him to begin the loving anew.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Despite Jim's worries, he was able to enjoy the wedding with only a couple of uncomfortable questions.

"That was rude," Trixie muttered under her breath as they danced.

"They're doing their job," Jim said. "Thanks for bringing up the work on the Braille eReaders."

Trixie snorted. "Well, you would think the newspapers would want to increase sales to a group of people previously cut off from their work."

"I don't think the Lifestyles reporters care as much as you think they should."

"Well. They should," Trixie said, settling deeper into Jim's embrace. "Someone is paying their salaries."

##

Di turned for yet another picture, emphasizing the train of her Vera Wang gown. She wore a small crown of white tea roses and purple forget-me-nots in the intricate updo. "Keep smiling," she whispered to Mart.

"I married the woman of my dreams," Mart said, whispering against her ear and causing her to shiver. "I will be smiling for the rest of my life."

##

"I always thought those two would get together," Dot Murray said to Dan.

"Yeah, we all did," Dan said, smiling down at the beautiful blonde in his arms. This was the third slow song in a row, but he wasn't complaining. "But in typical Jim and Trixie fashion, they had to take the long way around."

##

"You know what it means when you catch the bouquet," Brian said, handing Honey a flute of champagne.

"Yes," she replied, coolly. She had no intention of falling for his dark eyed charm a second time in this life.

"You know I had no intention of hurting you," Brian said, sensing her rebuff.

"Excuse me," Honey said, handing the crystal flute back to a passing waiter. "My date just arrived. It was good to see you again, Brian."

Brian Belden stared at her retreating back, dark eyes full of regrets.

a/n:

Entirely self-edited, so all mistakes are mine, mine, mine.

Braille eReaders is a technology that has mostly stalled due to funding issues. It also seemed a very Bob-White-like cause, to increase literacy levels among the blind.

To the best of my knowledge, Guttenberg Braille Project is a fictional company.

National Federation of the Blind and the statistics Jim cites are real.

Kindle is a brand of e-readers and tablets put out by Amazon. I'm not making any money off the reference.

The Plaza Hotel is a hotel in Manhattan, utilized by the cream of NY Society as a popular wedding venue.

Vera Wang is a wedding dress designer.


End file.
